Broken Vows
by Dark Marx Soul
Summary: Dimentio: dimensional magician, the holder of the Dark Prognosticus, and the ill-fated son of the King of the Tribe of Darkness, Esteban. In a fit of chance, Dimentio finds his father has found a fiancee, and does not take kindly to the affront upon his mother, who gave birth to him thousands of years ago. Written on November 3rd, 2010. Takes place before The Chaos Trilogy.


'What do you mean, "you were defeated?!"' the boy roared. At least, the soldier thought it was a boy; he appeared around his mid to late teens in height and stature, yet was clad from head to toe in purple and yellow court jester garb, a black shirt, pants, and gloves covering what his poncho and motley hat did not. A black and white mask obscured his face, the black and yellow, crescent-shaped eyes glaring at him while the same-shaped, red mouth actually _smiled_ at him. There were many theories surrounding this child, most of them dealing with dark magic and a very graphic and violent past. The soldier had no doubt that at least one of them was right; the jester seemed to reek of death and even if he didn't the constant grin on his face would break down even the most hardened man. As he spoke to the boy the soldier regretted removing his battle helmet; even with the added perspiration, hiding his face from this boy was an infinitely more appealing alternative than facing him with all the fear, however well hidden, on his face.

'I...' The officer couldn't find the words as the masked fool glared at him, eerie smile plastered on his face. He swallowed some saliva before continuing. 'I said we were defeated...sir,' he added upon the jester's most displeased look yet. The boy was a mere royal fool to the king and yet he wielded as much power as the ruler himself. Those few who had openly spoken against this rash decision on the king's part had met an untimely end, with the boy looking particularly pleased with himself whenever a body was discovered gruesomely disfigured. No prizes for guessing who the murderer was.

'You were defeated,' the jester repeated, leaning back in the king's extravagant throne. His eyes closed and he sighed. 'You were defeated. Ah ha ha ha...' The soldier felt a shiver run down his spine; god how he hated that horrible laugh. 'Forgive me if I cannot comprehend how our greatest military forces cannot stand up to those of that pitiful Tribe of Ancients.' He tapped his fingers on the arm of the great chair. 'Dark magic...powerful weapons...unmatched skill...and yet you cannot fend off a measly band of lovesick shamans?!'

'S-sir!' the man stuttered. 'I can explain—'

'Do you have ANY idea what your losses mean?!' the jester shouted angrily, the smile all but gone from his face. 'If the Ancients take the city the Dark Prognosticus will be captured! Need I remind you exactly how long it took to find it the first time?!'

The soldier stood strong, trying his best to mask his fear. He failed. 'S-sir, we are even now devising a course of action to stop them—'

And you'd better hope that it _works_, officer.' Utter malice oozed from the jester's mouth. 'Otherwise you will be the first of many victims to come.' He clenched his fist suddenly, sparks of magic crackling from his palm. 'Do I make myself clear?'

The soldier bowed hastily. 'Y-YES SIR!' he shouted.

'Good. Now go and prepare for the next attack. If we are beaten again, _heads will roll_.' A short pause from the boy told the soldier he needed to go, and go quickly. He didn't make it far enough though; insane laughter echoed through the halls as he sprinted away from the monster the king kept so close to him. The laughter of a madman.

Dimentio leaned back in the throne and sighed again. Intimidating those mindless brutes the Tribe of Darkness called soldiers was quite possibly the most entertaining thing he could do. He was still chuckling from his outburst of laughter as the officer fled, yet it could not be denied that he was livid. The Tribe of Ancients had tracked down their location and launched attack after attack, attempting to take the city and secure the Dark Prognosticus, the prophetic tomb of dark events that lay deep within the heart of the city of the Tribe of Darkness. With enough effort Dimentio and his father, the king, could most certainly move the city to another, safer location. Such a task would cripple them both for weeks; thus, it was only used as an absolute last resort. Until the time when that was needed, they responded by sending out their own military. Unfortunately, the battles weren't going well at all.

'All that time training and working for this moment and they get knocked aside like pins at a senior home's bowling tourney!' Dimentio spat. 'If they get their hands on the Prognosticus then I'll have to find the accursed thing again.' Behind his mask he ground his teeth; his master plan, to wipe out all worlds with the prophesied Void and recreate a perfect new one free, of all the imperfect blemishes the currents ones all possessed, relied on him keeping the book secure so he could use it when the time came. If it was stolen it would just mean a lot more work to try and take it back.

He inhaled deeply, then exhaled. He did it again, and then again. The only sound in the huge, shining throne room was the tapping of his fingers on the arms of the throne itself. He soon decided it would be prudent of him to find his father and ask for assistance. When worst comes to worst, even geniuses such as himself needed help. With any luck he might be granted permission to participate in the battles themselves, which the king explicitly forbade him from doing on the grounds that even he could be destroyed in an all out war and that he was key for the master plan to succeed. While Dimentio couldn't argue with that logic, the Prognosticus was also a key part and that meant that it had to stay with them.

He stood up from the throne and walked out of the room, closing the doors with a snap of his fingers.

As he ran (rather tiredly by this point) through the halls of the castle towards the place he knew his father retired to whenever was necessary, he tried to think of the ways he could deliver the news. He wasn't the least bit afraid of the king or the political power he held, yet he still had to speak with care; he _was_ the king of the Tribe of Darkness, after all, and Dimentio wouldn't be welcome by anyone if his father wanted it so. Then again, he already wasn't welcome by anyone, but that was beside the point.

He reached the door and, without giving a thought to knocking, wrenched it open. 'Ganter!' he exclaimed, using his father's first name. 'I have important information to tell—' He stopped abruptly at the sight inside.

There was a woman in the room, sitting beside Ganter. She was, like everyone in the Tribe of Darkness, dark blue skinned with black hair and bright yellow eyes. Her body itself was slender and curved at the hips, her cheeks flushed with a slight black blush. Her hair was long and fell down below her shoulders, grazing the top of her dark dress. A necklace made of gold with a rare jewel fastened to the middle of it hung around her neck. She, like Ganter, turned abruptly at this intrusion.

'Esteban,' the woman said, using his father's well known alias. 'What is _that _doing in here?'

Dimentio had froze, staring at the unknown woman. The smile he so often wore was completely gone, replaced by a shocked bewilderment. 'You, jester!' his father barked. Dimentio noticed that he was holding a glass of...some sort of liquor. Was this a...a _date?_ The woman was as well. The king put down his drink as he acknowledged Dimentio. 'What is so important that you must interrupt me?'

Dimentio hesitated, then bowed stiffly. 'My Lord,' he said politely. 'A military officer gave word of a rather unfortunate failure at the hands of our enemies. If it is at all possible, I would like to go into more detail and request a couple of things.' He peered up, stealing a glance at the woman. 'In _private_.'

The jester's words were layered with an urgency Ganter obviously found, because he stood up, leaving his drink on the table. 'Er, yes,' he said with a surprisingly little amount of kingly charisma. 'Yes, let's go.'

'But Esteban!' the woman exclaimed. 'What about our date?'

'That will have to wait until a later time, dearest.' He bowed courteously. 'I must depart immediately, so I trust you can see yourself out?' He was already making his way to the door with Dimentio in front.

'Uh...okay, I will! Be back soon!' she called.

'Yes yes, soon!' Ganter replied, closing the door. He turned to face Dimentio. 'Now,' he said, still walking. 'You wished to tell me about our ene—'

Dimentio spun around and gripped his arm hard. The world blurred around them, their ears filling with a high-pitched buzz before a _ping_ sounded and they were suddenly in Dimentio's room. The jester let go and strode to the head of the room where an elegant wooden table was mounted. He took off his mask and stared at it, facing away from his father. He gripped the mask in both his hands, clenching his fingers around the edges.

'Who...' he said quietly, '_was that?_' His heart was pounding, his anger rising. He had heard the woman outright _say_ that she was on a _date_ with Ganter...what in Grambi's name was he doing?!

The ruler of the Tribe of Darkness hesitated. 'I realise this may come as a shock to you Dimentio,' he said cautiously. 'I met that woman almost a year ago, and—'

'I have no time for idle chatter,' Dimentio said bluntly. 'Just cut to the chase...who IS SHE?!' He spun around and hurled his mask across the room, allowing the pure fury in his eyes to be seen. The king moved quickly to avoid it.

Ganter frowned. 'Very well. Her name is Antoinetta. We are betrothed. We are going to be married soon...which would make her your stepmother-to-be.'

There was about a minute of tense silence between the two of them. Dimentio stared at Ganter. Ganter stared at Dimentio. The only thing that could be heard was the ticking of the jester's grandfather clock in the background. Finally, Dimentio spoke.

'You're marrying...' he said, very slowly. 'You're marrying another woman...?'

'Yes,' said the ruler plainly. 'I am marrying another woman.'

There was another ten seconds of silence that Ganter thought might develop into another minute of it before Dimentio finally snapped and hurled a block of magic at him, which he ducked under and flew forward from the force of the explosion the attack made.

'You disgusting, horrible, cheating, lowly BASTARD!' the boy screamed, running across the room and grabbing his father by the collar.

'Unhand me you ingrate!' the man shouted furiously. His eyes glowed menacingly, magical power humming from his body.

Dimentio hoisted him up to eye-level, his legs limp on the ground; the amount of power resonating from the jester's being reminded Ganter exactly who he was dealing with. He had little strength physically, Dimentio, but with magic he was unparalleled. 'You scum...' he growled. 'You think you can just move on to another woman?! _What about __Raphaella, what about my mother?!_'

His father planted his feet firmly on the ground and grabbed Dimentio by_ his _collar, the two of them staring angrily into each other's eyes. 'That woman...' he hissed, 'means nothing to me.' He shoved his son, causing him to fall backwards onto his back.

'You..._you..._' Dimentio was seething. He got to his feet, power crackling around him. 'You swore you'd be faithful! YOU TOOK VOWS!'

'Raphaella is DEAD, boy!'

_'She's alive and you know it!_'

'Hmph! You honestly believe she's been hidden away in some dimension somewhere? If that's the case, have you gone to her yet?' The boy's face answered his question. 'Exactly.'

'That doesn't matter! You can't just toss her memory aside, you can't abandon her!'

'Look at you...acting like a _child._ You're over one thousand years old Dimentio!'

'How dare you defile her memory by marrying that...that...'

'That _what?_ Remember Dimentio, that's my fiancé you're insulting.'

'...' Dimentio couldn't say it. Ganter was vital to his plans; the Tribe of Darkness needed to exist to guard the Dark Prognosticus, and without their king they'd disband quickly. 'I won't stand for this outrage...' he said firmly. 'You're going to rue the day...'

Ganter smiled confidently. 'No,' he said, knowing what Dimentio was thinking. 'No, I won't.' He turned and left, slamming the door. All talk of the Tribe of Ancients had gone unspoken.

Dimentio swore to himself that he was going to make Ganter...and more importantly, that woman...pay. Eventually, he did. Ganter fell at his hands millenniums later, and he was able to silence that infernal woman far earlier than that...but not before she gave birth to a son who would shake the very threads of existence to their cores and give Dimentio no end of trouble.

She named her son Blumiere.


End file.
